Closest Thing to God
by AoSora.Minami
Summary: Keenan Holiday was always and will always be a sadistic f***. He never once trully cared about anyone, always putting them down and reveling in their misery. And then a masochist named Kamakui Mika entered is sadistic world. Kamakui-x-Keenan
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:: [I wanted to write a bit about sadism and masochism. So I am. And it's very twisted. I would like your opinions!]**

_**Closest Thing to God**_

__

If she could possibly hate a pregnancy test, it was a negative pregnancy test. Ahem. A NEGATIVE pregnancy test.

She sat there on the white porcelain seat of her toilet, having torn her dirty pair of socks off to start getting ready for a hot shower, and stared blankly at the test. She only stared, her lungs ceasing to work as the gravity of the negative result hit her head on. A deep frown set on her small pink lips.

How could this happen? She didn't know. She couldn't make any sense of it. How was all she could ask. Her grip tightened around the small white little test with its grey digital screen, her heart aching with sadness and disappointment. Not two seconds later did it end up snapped in half and in the trash.

She slowly and uncomfortably began to pull off the shirt her boyfriend would always let her wear and tossed it in the hamper across from her, a knot forming in her throat. A sniffle and a tiny huff escaped her and she pulled herself off the white toilet seat, trying so hard to keep the swelling knot and welling tears at bay.

"Why?" she muttered shakily, her hands shooting up to cover her eyes as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She leaned against the soft grey-painted wall of her bathroom, sobbing miserably. "We've been trying so hard lately... Why can't I get pregnant?"

The truth is, they really had been trying to get pregnant. All the time. Every chance they got, they would be tangled together in bed and kissing each other all over, scratching and biting, huffing and moaning. But they've had no luck. Shouldn't they have gotten pregnant by now?

She groaned and sniffed, wiping her reddened face and reaching into the glass shower to run the hot water. The familiar pitter-patter pounding into the tile floor filled her ears and she stepped in under the spray, not bothering to wait until it heated up completely.

All she needed right now, she told herself, was the comfort of her lover and the warmth of the water. So she stood there, letting the barrage of small heated droplets hit her pale skin, just trying so hard to calm down.

Without warning, there was a single loud knock on the bathroom door. The sudden noise made the saddened girl jump up with fear, her heart beating fast.

"~~~~?" a worried and warm voice questioned from behind the door, the familiarity soothing her. The sweet sound belonged to him, her boyfriend, her lover. He was generally a calm person, although his temper would flare sometimes, and he was always looking out for her whether she knew it or not. He hated it when she was sad and when he couldn't help her - which seemed to be a lot because he was always out on tour. This dark-haired, brown-eyed man was a musician. A damn good one at that.

"Y-yes?" she stammered, peeking through the frosted glass of the shower.

The bathroom door opened with a soft creak and in stepped her nervous boyfriend, a worried, half-naked mess. He stepped over toward the shower with slow, uncomfortable steps and quickly pulled his boxers down.

She blushed and backed away against the wall, every possible perverted thought running through her mind and mixing with her sadness and disappointment. She gave a small sigh, leaning against the grey tiles.

The glass slid down its track twice and she was soon joined by her lover, his arms wrapping around her hips. He held her, nuzzling the soft, wet skin of her neck. "I heard you cry... What's wrong?" he asked gently, his concern clear in his voice.

She shook her head a little, her hands pawing lightly at his forearms. She tried to find the words to tell him the test came up negative. It was hard. How could she tell him? Just...how? She couldn't speak. She couldn't find the words. WERE there any words?

But he knew his sweet girl better. He nuzzled the smoothness of her neck, knowing she was in a great deal of pain. He could hear it in her soft breathing above the pitter-patter of water, he could hear it in her beating heart, and it hurt him in turn. "Please...tell me," he muttered helplessly, kissing the nape of her neck lovingly but slightly shaky himself.

"It..." There was no way she could tell him. Nothing would come out of her mouth. The very thought of continuing the sentence strangled her and that all-too familiar knot from earlier reformed in her throat. She couldn't tell him. Not again. Her eyes stung with hot tears and she lacked the strength to hold them back. Her hands shot up to her eyes and she cried, her heart pounding with the pain.

He paused, taking in a careful breath. "It came up negative again... didn't it?" he asked softly, trying his hardest to be gentle, his grip around her hips tightening. He didn't like the fact that the stupid tests always came up negative. In fact, he hated it. He hated seeing her cry. He hated that she couldn't be a mother. It was extremely irritating, especially because they were trying so goddamn hard and she wants it so bad.

The words rang in his girlfriend's ears and from there she broke down. Her eyes were overwhelmed by the tears streaming down her cheeks. She trembled in his hold, digging her nails into his forearms as she cried. She hiccupped and sobbed, almost wailing from how badly it hurt for him to have said it.

"Shh..." he soothed, his thumbs rubbing her bony hips. He didn't like it when she cried. She always sounded like she was in an insane amount of pain or she was drowning. It was irritating and depressing and heartbreaking all at once.

He knew that he could help her feel better but she was a stubborn girl and, sometimes, he just didn't know how to help. She would somehow deny every sweet thing he'd say to her and she'd continue crying miserably. He wanted to help her, but he'd only get frustrated. So...he kept silent and nuzzled the softening wet skin of her shoulder, resting his head there. His hands ran up her sides and back down to her hips in a slow, gentle motion.

He felt her shudder and hiccup against him, her breathing labored and shaky. His hands and fingers continued to gently caress her and he began to softly kiss her shoulders and neck, pulling her closer. He wanted her to just calm down and feel better...

His tongue slid across her shoulder blade, earning him a soft and shaky coo from the girl he held so close against him. This made him smile and he continued, pressing his warm lips against everywhere he licked. Before too long, she had stopped her crying, left only to huff and breathe shakily. His hands dipped past her hip bones, sliding dangerously close to her womanhood and circled back up, much to his girlfriend's disappointment.

She pulled his hand from where it stopped at her belly and pushed it back down, turning her head enough so she could look up at him. Her eyes were still watery but she had, indeed, stopped crying. That pretty face of hers was red and puffy, her cheeks wet and her hair plastered to her forehead from the water. He smiled and gently pulled her dark hair back, holding it in a sort of pony-tail to keep it from falling into her face again.

She gave a small smile in response, turning around in his arms completely, forgetting about his hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed herself up on her toes. "K-Keenan..." she muttered softly, her voice a shaky sigh. His skin was warm and wet against her own and she loved it. He was always so warm... She leaned her head up, looking up into his deep brown eyes.

His hands found her hips again and he pulled her as close to him as he could, fingers pressed into her soft skin. "Mika..." he mumbled warmly, looking back into her own honey brown eyes. She appeared to be entirely too focused on his. He knew she loved his eyes. She loved them because they were deep and almost mysterious, even though he himself wasn't a mysterious person.

The girl in his arms leaned a little closer, her face only an inch or two from his. He felt her cool breath tickle his chin and lips and he suppressed a soft chuckle from the gentle contact, resting his forehead on hers. He let his hands roam, his fingers fiddling with stray locks of her hair and tracing the planes of her wet back.

There was a small shudder on her part and she pushed herself closer, her lips almost brushing against his. He smiled and leaned his head away slightly to tease her, gently tugging on her hair in a playful effort to make her unspoken goal to kiss him a bit harder to achieve. She gave a cute pout in response, tangling her fingers in his damp hair, her heart set on a kiss.

"Mika..." he said, one hand cupping her still-puffy cheek. His thumb gently rubbed along her cheek bone as he smiled and slowly began to lean in.

She tilted her head into his palm, looking up at him with a light tint of red to her cheeks. But much to her surprise, he finally granted her that kiss.

His warm lips pressed against hers softly, his hand moving to cup the back of her head in order to pull her closer, his other hand pressing flat against her back with his nails digging into her skin. She closed her eyes and gave a small gasp, tightening her arms around his neck, and returned the soft kiss as deeply as she could. His tongue pressed against her lips and she parted them, allowing him access.

Her lover's kiss was always knee-weakening for her. It could be a simple peck or a full-on tongue kiss. No matter the type of kiss, she would melt into him, entranced and wanting more.

She huffed softly into his mouth, her soft wet tongue dancing with his own. There they stood, embracing each other under the heat of the water and kissing messily in between light huffs.

Finally, however, they pulled apart to breathe, staring into each other's eyes. Blush lit up her cheeks and she bit her lip, trembling from the kiss. She felt his fingers slowly travel up her spine, his eyes never leaving hers and he smiled, trailing his hand back down toward her soft, round butt. His warm hand cupped and squeezed the spots he touched, grinning as he earned himself a string of soft huffs and a blushing red face.

She rested her head against his chest, blushing at his ministrations, and nibbled on his collar bone, huffing at every squeeze and light tap he gave her ass. She traced the shape of his collar with her small tongue, her hands now at his chest. They were so close together... Digging her nails into his skin as his own hands moved lower, her breathing hitched and she bit down on his collar, not hard but not exactly gentle either.

His hands kept traveling closer an closer to her womanhood without shame, squeezing and prodding her skin as they went. He had to make her feel better, whether it be more sex or...or more sex. Anything. He just wanted her to stop crying, to stop feeling so helpless and useless... Without another moments hesitation, he gently grabbed her thin wrists, backing her against the grey tiles of the shower wall. He watched and smiled as she looked up at home with those beautiful big brown eyes of hers, confused. His hands pressed hers against the water-slick tiles, holding them there tightly as he bent his head down to brush his lips against the crook of her neck.

She squirmed, feeling that too-familiar rush of heat flutter around in her belly, a bright blush working its way to her cheeks. His teeth grazed the vein in her neck and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in-

**That's the way you wish it could be.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:: [Twisted. I hope it makes you squeamish. D But I really just hope you don't flame me for how awkward this was. .]  
**

-

**But... This is how it really is.**

She awoke with a jolt, blinking open her big brown eyes. She couldn't recognize where she was, unable to process anything correctly, her eyes flitting from object to object. Gray walls. Dim lighting. A plain, boxy orange sofa sat up against one of these gray walls and beside it was a fake-looking houseplant, long and rectangular coffee table placed in front of both, and off to the left was a brown door. She could tell she was in someone's apartment. But whose? Where?

One thing she knew, she was propped up against a cold, frozen wall and her legs were carelessly strewn about on the floor, open. Her hands were lazily stuffed in her pockets and her head was cocked sideways, most likely from the sleep she just woke up from. A slight pain flowered in her neck when she tried to move her head upright and she blinked, raising a hand to feel around. Pulling her hand from her jacket pocket, she touched her fingertips to the spot where the pain was most concentrated, her eyes widening with alarm.

There were fresh divots lined up in an oval-like shape, warm and dripping with something hot and sticky. She traced the oval of dents and marks, shaking with fear at what might have happened to cause this. She pulled her hand away and inspected it, a knot forming in her throat. Red. All she could see now was red. It was blood.

Blood.

Her heart was racing at ten times the speed of her normal heart rate, her mind reeling and her stomach flopping and lurching. Blood was seeping from her neck and coating her skin, her fingertips. She let out a strangled cry, holding her hand far away from her body as buning tears spilled from her honey eyes.

"I bit you, Mika," cooed a calm and very cocky, self-satisfied voice from right beside her, breath blowing right into her ear.

She squealed and cocked her head up to look at the person next to her, flinching visibly at the obvious pain and shock of the mark on her neck, and scooted away quickly, her tears clouding her eyes. This person was bent over forward, leaning closer to her, his perfect black hair dangling in his face. He was smiling a twisted and cruel smile and his hands were stuffed into the pockets of his own jacket - which was completely black. Everything he wore was black. Even his eyes were black. But his skin was a pale white. He looked so familiar.

Who was he? Wait... It was-

"K-Keenan!" Mika exclaimed, her fright thick in her voice. She Looked up at his grinning face, noticing a little blot of blood on the corner of his mouth. Her blood. A small huff and she melted at the thought of **him** biting her, a shudder trailing down her spine.

This twenty-year-old man was her companion. Or rather, she was his companion. He didn't need company, he didn't want it, he didn't ask for it, he didn't like it. He was very much his own person, preferring to be alone. But, for whatever reason, he didn't seem to mind Kamakui's presence. He never forced her to leave. He never told her he hated her. He never told her to go away.

In fact, despite some of his behaviors, he was somewhat patient and kind to her. He seemed to _enjoy_ her company, always sneaking up on her and wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he possibly could. He'd smile - twistedly, but it still counts - and he would lightly tug on her black hair and nuzzle the back of her neck, run his tongue along the vein, kiss her cheek and-

"Strip for me," Keenan commanded softly, his voice a husky purr fluttering into Kamakui's small, slightly pointed ears. His lips curved up in a twisted grin, black eyes fixated on on hers. His gaze was piercing in its dark, insatiable depth, scouring her own innocent one.

"W-what?" She blinked up at him, her body shuddering in his wake.

"Strip."

Kamakui shakily latched her bloodied fingers to the buttons on her dark jacket, weakly tugging them free of their holes. She looked away from the man before her, her cheeks stained with a red as dark as her blood, shrugging off her jacket. His eyes traced every outline of her still-dressed thin body, squirming right back up to her averted brown eyes. He grinned, watching her frail hands tug and pull at her shirt, the thin material slipping off of her with minimal effort.

The dark-haired girl looped her fingers in the small belt loops of her jeans, pushing them down and wiggling her little hips in an attempt to take the material off faster. She slid the skin-tight pants right off along with the socks she neglected to acknowledge, leaving only her red silk undergarments on. Light, fading purple bruises lined the curves of her sides, dotted her collar bones, smeared across her hips, stained her thighs. Scratch marks and bite marks lie alongside each blot of blue-black, all crescent- and oval-shaped.

Every mark was Keenan's. A satisfied, toothy grin stretched across his pale face, his approval clear in his twisted expression. Kamakui was shivering under the older man's hungry gaze, her hair dangling in her gentle face as if to hide from him, her hands fluttering nervously to her deep red panties. Immediately, he smacked at her hands with his own large ones, his previous grin turning into a vicious frown. He crouched down between her trembling legs, noting her darkening blush and the so innocently frightened expression on her face, and slammed her hands onto the cold stone of the wall, grin returning at her tiny squeak of slight pain.

He wanted her scared, hurt. He wanted her to squeal his name in pleased agony when he was done with her. He wanted her to huff and groan and moan, breathe heavily, yelp. He wanted her to shake and shudder underneath him, to claw at his chest with her little hands and scream. He wanted her to be as submissive as always, to give in to his fucked up fantasy of fucked up love-making.

He wanted her.

Keenan bent his head closer to her sweet face, his tongue sliding out of his mouth and running right along the line of her lips, his grin intact. He cupped her cheek in his cold hand, relishing the soft shudder she gave him in return, his thumb rubbing her jaw line. A small squeeze forced her little mouth open and her eyes were immediately on him, blushing darkly as her pushed his tongue against her bottom row of teeth, tracing the shape of each tooth in a teasing manner. The grin on his face was cruel and needy, his breath a splash of lust on Kamakui's cheeks and nose.

"K-Keenan..." she whispered through his tongue-play, her small tongue touching the tip of his own.

He responded by reaching his free hand into her hair, grabbing a fistful, and pulling roughly. The action opened her mouth a bit more and he crashed his lips against her soft ones, tongue darting in to play with hers. He released her hand and pulled her into him, swirling his tongue around her own and slowly sliding his hand down her spine, tracing each bump of her vertebrae. She placed her hands on his chest, latching onto his jacket, which caused the man to shove her away and back into the stone of the wall. A loud yelp escaped her on impact and she whined, breathing in quick huffs.

He looked at her, scanning the curved of her body like a hungry fox, and stood, turning on his heel and walking briskly to the ugly block of a couch. He sat himself down lazily, sprawling out across the length of the sofa, and threw his arms up against the back, smiling in his cruelty. "My lap. Now," he commanded coolly, watching the thin girl obey him.

He wanted her to be completely helpless against him.

Kamakui nervously crawled onto the unattractive orange couch, straddling one of Keenan's still-clothed legs, trying to get as close to the man as she could. She placed her delicate hands on his chest, giving a huffy groan when he fisted her hair again, looking up at his angular face. He was grinning like usual, staring back at her hungrily, letting the sweet girl on top of him drift closer and closer. He tugged a bit harder on her long, dark hair, halting her movements and, taking advantage of this, he flicked his free hand up against the center of her bra-clad chest, curling his fingers around the small piece of wire and satin that held the two bra cups together. And, without much effort, he tore her red bra right off, his demented smile widening at her corresponding groan of disapproval.

He tossed it away and grinned toothily, taking one of her exposed breasts into his large hand. They weren't small by any means, Kamakui's breasts. In fact, the soft mounds were right around a 38B, which is a good size - not too big and certainly not too small. They fit perfectly in his hand without being small or overwhelmingly large. Just perfect. He squeezed the breast he latched onto, pleased with the small huff she elicited, and he tugged on her thick black hair, enjoying the soft whisper-like moans she continued to give him.

Keenan had this girl in the palm of his hand and he knew it. He reveled in the thought of this girl doing anything and everything he told her to, the reality of it, and the simple but delicious fact that she really was a great fuck when he wanted her, doing everything she was instructed and even doing some things she wasn't. These things were very good. So, while unnecessary and not under his control, he enjoyed them. Even now as he squeezed her breast and pulled at her hair, he enjoyed it, grin widening at her hip movement. They swayed and rocked lightly, her womanhood rubbing against his leg.

She shuddered visibly, his hand leaving her breast. He dug his nails into her still-bruised skin and dragged them painfully slowly down her chest and stomach, his fingers dipping into her silk panties for barely a second and he pulled, snapping the elastic band. The girl let out a yelp and a consecutive huff, her hips still swaying.

Her skin stung where Keenan snapped the band in her panties, the tiny pain making her bite her lip. She breathed slowly, fisting his shirt, and nearly lost it. His fingers were beginning to run small, insulting circles in the spot just above her womanhood, slowly pressing harder and harder as they got closer and closer to her button. She let out huff after huff, whimpering at the all-too wonderful feeling of his warm touch on her parts, groaning as he pulled her panties to the side.

Oh, for fuck's sake.


End file.
